


But he was such a good boy to me

by kittenmichael



Series: Ooh La [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, and lashton history, and poor 5sos, but i kinda got sidetracked, lots of gross 50 year olds, so now it's nothing like the song anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:00:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2358800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmichael/pseuds/kittenmichael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Fedler looked the same as he had when he came up to Ashton in a local pub where he played every once in a while. There was still too much gel in his jet black hair, his suit tried to hide his belly but failed and he wore the same smirk. His outfit seemed so similar, it could have been the same one. Save for one thing.</p><p>A new accessory.</p><p> </p><p>or, ashton leaves the house with the intention to network and finds his ex-boyfriend on the lap of fifty year old</p>
            </blockquote>





	But he was such a good boy to me

The actually dark blue paper card seemed black under the soft glow of a fancy looking lamppost, the name and address that were written on it barely readable. It looked expensive and ominous and _crumpled_ in Ashton's trembling hands, the thin card too small for his annoyingly long fingers.

 

_Dominik Fedler_

_81 McKillop Street_

_ROSSBRIDGE VIC 3377_

_(03) 5361 8878_

 

He would be lying if he claimed he wasn't holding on to it like a stupid person at the beginning of a stupid, cliché movie who was bound to get in trouble. But he could feel the weight of his phone in his pocket and reminded himself that he wasn't like those stupid people (or at least Michael wasn't, who was the one to put his number on speed dial in the first place).

 

The houses he passed while walking made him feel even poorer than he usually did and their large shadows, along with the worrying noises he heard in the distance, reminded him of the set of The Purge. Despite the many security cameras and the fact that he had needed to fucking _identify_ himself to even get into the neighbourhood, he felt like he could be attacked every given second.

 

Strangely enough he felt safer in the familiar trashed streets and dark alleys of the suburbs than he did here, in a lane with American dream front lawns and houses bigger than the local hospital.

 

But if he ever wanted to see something else than vulgar graffiti when he looked out of his window, he had to put himself out there, which meant he couldn't possibly decline when a suit-clad man invited him to one of his business parties to discuss his music career over dinner.

 

So unless he wanted to freeze to death while gaping at a giant gate, he should probably get over his inutile fears. If it turned out that tonight's events were not useful for his career and the food was bad he could call Michael. After inspecting the ruined business card and double checking the address, he pressed what looked like an unnecessarily expensive version of a doorbell.

 

"Good evening, Sir. Can I help you?"

 

A rather robotic voice interrupted the evening's silence, startling Ashton with its loud volume.

 

"This is, this is Ashton Irwin. Mr. Fedler invited me over for dinner."

 

Despite his stumbling at the beginning, Ashton managed to introduce himself with feigned confidence. It would do for a first time, one last practise before he _actually_ had to introduce himself.

 

"Yes, of course. Please come in, Mr. Irwin."

 

The iron gate opened, its rattling rather soft compared to the speaker. After standing outside for so long, he was eager to get inside and warm up. Without further ado, he climbed the steps of an illuminated path. The white tiles resonated his footsteps and he couldn't help but look at the shadow the lamplight created on them, quickly checking if his curls were still somewhat okay.

 

Once he reached the front door, which was mainly made out of glass and therefore see-through, he caught sight of the woman who was most likely the owner of the robotic voice. Her black hair was almost completely up in a bun, save for a few curly strands that had escaped. She greeted him with a smile and after she had pressed a button, the door opened.

 

"Let me take your coat, Sir. Mr. Fedler is in the second room to your left."

 

Ashton shrugged off his jacket, handed it to her and cautiously walked towards the door she had pointed to. The hall was big with a red carpeted floor, chandeliers and a large marble staircase. It was your typical old-style fancy house.

 

He hesitantly pushed down the door handle, taking a deep breath before actually opening it. When he peeked inside, his gaze was met by quite a few pairs of curious eyes and he realised that perhaps he should have knocked first. The next thing he noticed was that there wasn't a single woman sat at the large, wooden dinner table.

 

"And you are?"

 

A slender man with thick blond hair spoke up, a confident smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

 

Ashton opened his mouth, ready to recite the introduction he had practised so hard, only to close it again. He found himself at a loss for words and with a lack of air and there was not much left to do besides sucking in a breath and swallowing his dignity.

 

"Come on, Sunshine. Don't be shy," an other middle aged man chimed in.

 

"Ashton Irwin, I'm Ashton Irwin."

 

So far for a classy impression, he scolded himself. Instead of going for the look of a serious musician, he now opted for an innocent young boy with a blush on his cheeks and a shy smile which he knew made his dimples pop out.

 

"The drummer."

 

Mr. Fedler hummed in recognition, finally revealing his presence to him. He looked the same as he had when he came up to Ashton in a local pub where he played every once in a while. There was still too much gel in his jet black hair, his suit tried to hide his belly but failed and he wore the same smirk. His outfit seemed so similar, it could have been the same one. Save for one thing.

 

A new accessory.

 

On his lap sat a young boy, his blond hair styled up in a quiff and his eyes averted. It was clear that he was paying no attention to the conversation whatsoever.

 

“You brought a friend for Luke?”

 

A heavy brunette chuckled, retrieving the boy from his thoughts. Upon hearing his name, he looked up, finally spotting their guest. Their eyes met.

 

And Ashton couldn’t help but notice that his legs seemed to have grown longer (the top of his knees was peaking above the table) and his fringe had been changed into a quiff and his features were more defined but he was just as lanky and skinny (unlike Ashton whose biceps had visibly grown bigger since he last held this boy in arms) and he still looked cuddly and fluffy even sat on the lap of a filthy middle aged man and he hadn’t tanned one bit and his eyes oh his _eyes_.

 

His familiar cerulean eyes mirrored his surprise, albeit with a hint of confusion and a ton of shame. They were still that particular _pure_ kind of blue, without spots of green or yellow, just a sweet, soothing kind of baby blue. Ashton wondered if it was the only pure part of him left of him.

 

“Shut up, Roy. You’re going to scare our new friend away,” Mr. Fedler scoffed, calling in a waiter to bring the food. It was obvious that he didn’t want to jump right into things, unlike his greedy friends.

 

“Come on man. Look, Lukey’s already blushing,” the brunette, Roy, shot back and Ashton’s first thought was to run out of the room and call Michael and mainly just _get the fuck out of there_. But his second thought was about Luke and so was his third and his fourth and he was sure that no matter if he left now or not, that boy would haunt his thoughts for quite some time now. He couldn’t just leave him here in the claws of rich, middle aged men. It had been two years since he first took care of him but he still felt responsible for him.

 

Besides, by now a young waiter had put a plate in front of him with types of food he knew he would never get the chance to eat again (unless his music career finally took off).

 

And Luke really was blushing, he discovered when he found the courage to look up. His cheeks were painted that particular kind of crimson that used to be reserved just for him (part of him hoped it still was). He looked uncomfortable on Mr. Fedler’s lap and he kept shuffling, something which seemed to annoy the man.

 

“How about we enjoy our dinner instead of harassing Ashton, who is our _guest_?”

 

Ashton decided that it might be better to pretend like he didn’t know Luke for now. Perhaps he could try to find out what Luke’s life was like. Maybe the boy was perfectly happy right where he was.  

 

He realised that with the multiple pairs of curious eyes that currently rested on him he probably should have focused on eating properly and using the correct knives and forks, but he _couldn’t_.

 

His mind kept travelling back to when he first introduced Luke to his friends. Michael had blatantly called him pedophelic when he brought home an innocent fifteen year old Luke Hemmings who had only just been termed his boyfriend (even though Michael was only sixteen himself).

 

He remembered finding Luke sitting on the curb of the city’s police office, his head buried in his hands and an old guitar case lying next to him. Upon getting the boy to look up by gently nudging him (and simultaneously scaring the crap out of him) he discovered that he was crying. That was the first time he saw those cerulean eyes, clouded with tears and swollen red.

 

He remembered introducing himself to him and catching his name in between the sobs and the wipes at his cheeks to get away the tear streaks and how much of a challenge that had been because Luke was crying and mumbling and awfully shy. But after Ashton cracked a few jokes, a pathetically small smile curved his lips and he knew that he wanted to keep those baby blue eyes pure. It didn’t take much guessing to figure out where this boy was going and if Ashton was right, those eyes would soon be specked by green dots and an ochre rim would appear around his pupil. It was only a matter of time before they became bloodshot along with dark bags underneath them, because where he was going there were a lot of people with dirty hands and dirty souls and Ashton would rather die than let them touch him.

 

He remembered coaxing Luke into getting coffee with him. The boy seemed a little more confident after he got the chance to warm up and right there on a tattered seat in a cheap coffee shop with his trembling hands curled around a steaming cup of hot chocolate (fifteen year olds don’t drink coffee) his bruised lips spilled a truth to him that confirmed his suspicions. Luke had ran away from home after a few too many fights with his parents in the hopes of earning some money by singing. For Ashton, it sealed the deal.

 

He remembered sitting in those seats all afternoon, slowly but surely getting Luke to crawl out of his shell. In the end, it was the topic music that made his hands tremble with excitement instead of fear. As it turned out, they got quite a lot of things in common and through similar dreams and similar favourite bands and entirely different personalities, they became friends. Ashton would have loved to take Luke on dates and watch his cheeks redden when he kissed him on the cheek on the third one and introduced him to his friends after the fifth one but it was getting dark outside.

 

He remembered persuading Luke to go home with him, trying his best to convince him that there was more stranger danger on the streets than at the microscopic zoo he called home. He called Calum and put the phone on speaker so Luke could see what his friends were like. After Calum ranted about All Time Low for ten minutes, the blond agreed to check out his CD collection (which he had kept after leaving his parent’s house despite not having a CD player).

 

He remembered Michael opening the door after he rang the bell and Luke hiding behind his back. The sad, shy boy he had found at the police station was back, but he had captured Michael’s heart after one scared whimper muffled by Ashton’s shirt. It didn’t take long for him to put Luke at ease and as soon as he had, he started showing his affection by teasing the younger boy.

 

He remembered Calum keeping his promise and taking Luke to his room to show off his CDs, leaving Michael and Ashton in the kitchen, which is the moment Michael picked to accuse Ashton of being a pedophile.

 

He remembered Luke staying by his side for weeks like a scared, puppy sidekick and Luke singing songs with Calum and Luke taking Michael’s banter too seriously and Luke getting comforted by lots of group cuddles.

 

Ashton wanted to drown in his memories, he wanted to reminiscence forever even though he barely had enough money for food back then and he slept on a mattress on the floor, but his plate was slowly getting empty. With every bite, every memory, his time with Luke was running out and the boy hadn’t even said a word yet.

 

“Luke, you’ve been awfully quiet today,” Mr. Fedler commented, his lips ghosting over Luke’s neck. Ashton couldn’t help but wonder what he was like when he wasn’t there to watch. Was he loud and talkative? A sexy prop like these men obviously intended for him to be? It seemed so out of character.

 

“C’mon, sweetheart, entertain us,” the blond man who had greeted Ashton when he first entered the room winked. Through conversations he had discovered that his name was Mitchell and that he made more money in one week than Ashton had in his whole life.

 

He noticed Luke sighing, despite his attempts to hide it. Ashton could still see so many traits of the fifteen year old he had met. No matter how hard he tried to conceal it, Luke had the behaviour of a typical teenager and right now he did not want to do anything, he just wanted to go back to his room and listen to some Blink 182.

 

“Shall I sing for you?” the blond offered. He stared at the men with his eyes widened, giving them an innocent look.

 

“Yes, Luke, be a dear and go get your guitar.” Mr. Fedler seemed relieved. It had taken Luke quite some time to warm up tonight, but they were getting there. He was slowly getting into character, which was good because his friends were growing impatient.

 

Ashton finally got a decent look at Luke when he stood up to leave the room. He was still as lanky as before, though his legs now went on for miles. He was over six feet, for sure, which had been accentuated with a black pair of skinny jeans. His broad shoulders stood out in a white shirt and black vest. The older boy was sure the outfit cost more than a college tuition.

 

But who cares? Because everyone’s gaze was glued to him while he crossed the room, heading for the door. They didn’t know where to look; his legs, his shoulders, his chest, his hair.

 

As soon as the door fell in its lock with a loud click, the conversation sparked up again.

 

“What’s wrong with him tonight?” Roy questioned, a frown marring his already unattractive appearance. Mr. Fedler, sighed, clearly annoyed as well. “I have no idea, but don’t worry about it. I’ll motivate him a little.”

 

“Perhaps he’s getting sp-”

 

Mitchell paused mid-sentence when the door opened again. Ashton was sure that Luke had noticed, but no one seemed to care. Unlike what he had first thought, it didn’t mattered what Luke felt or thought.

 

“The usual?”

 

It was hard to focus on Luke’s words when he was holding a brand new, spotless Gibson Les Paul. With the strap wrapped around his neck, the guitar rested in his hands effortlessly.

 

Mr. Fedler nodded, reaching out for him and tugging his arm to get him close. He pressed his lips on the boy’s, who immediately returned the kiss. A moan escaped his mouth when the man’s hand disappeared underneath his button-up. Once Mr. Fedler was satisfied, he pulled back, whispering something in Luke’s ear.

 

This seemed to be something that happened a lot, because in the corner of the room there was space reserved with a microphone and an amp.

 

“Love, why don’t you play my favourite song?”

 

“Of course, anything for you, Ben,” Luke smiled at the man next to Ashton, before strumming a few chords. His voice was even lower than it used to be and he appeared confident now that he was holding his guitar. The sound that came out sounded unfamiliar to Ashton, he had never heard him play like that.

 

Luke paused his strumming for a few seconds to adjust the microphone so it hung slightly above his mouth, making him look up when he sang. It gave them a full display of his neck which was covered in love bites. Some of them were already fading, which made them a deep shade of pink, while others couldn’t have been older than a few hours.

 

The words that tumbled out of his mouth weren’t in English, they were French, and despite most likely not knowing what he was singing, Luke let them slide off of his lips effortlessly. The song he was singing sounded like a French chanson, though it might just have been a translation of a Lana Del Rey song.

 

Ashton thought back of his own performances at the local pub and how difficult it was to grasp the attention of an audience, how much trouble he had to entertain a group of people.

 

But Luke, a seventeen year old boy with a guitar and mic pushed into a corner, had everyone hanging on his thin, pink lips. His singing was a variation of low and high notes, moans and growls, and whispers that sent shivers down his spine.

 

His voice had Ashton wishing that he was the one who had given him those love bites when he threw his head back. Ashton was certain that he would ignite _evaporate_ extinguish _detonate_ or possibly _shatter_. His breath was caught in his throat, swelling his lungs up with millions of butterflies who set his insides on fire. Even with his nails digging in his skin and his teeth piercing his lip, he could barely hold back a moan.

 

But then Luke stopped strumming, having reached the end of the song, and Ashton was enraged. He wanted to jump up, kick his chair aside and shove all the porcelain plates off the table. His inside were turning to mush, slowly reaching a boiling-point, incited by his anger. He was ready to punch each one of these bastards in the face (and press Luke against the wall and kiss him fiercely) because they were keeping this boy to themselves. Luke should be singing in front of thousands of people (or every night in Ashton’s bedroom) and not in a room filled with horny fifty year olds.

 

“Do us a favour, sing some more, Luke.”

 

The boy shook his head amusedly, a mischievous smile taking over his features.

 

“How about dessert first?”

 

Against all odds, the men agreed and Luke put his guitar on a stand in his corner before taking a seat on Mr. Fedler’s lap once again. It seemed to Ashton like he had forgotten about his presence, because besides not sparing him a glance since his introduction, his hands were all over the man’s body. He softly nipped at his jaw, his hands finding their way to his chest and his gelled hair.

 

“Eager, are we?” Mitchell chuckled, even though it was obvious that he’d rather Luke sat on his lap. Luke simply pretended like he hadn’t heard the comment and continued making out with Mr. Fedler. After a few moans and an awkward silence from the rest of us, his hands moved downwards into the man’s pocket. Ashton caught sight of the corner of a tiny plastic bag filled with white powder before Mr. Fedler could tuck it back into his pocket and push Luke’s hands away.

 

The teenager scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. His kissing stopped as soon as it had started and he climbed off of Mr. Fedler’s lap with an irritated expression. He didn’t give up though, he simply walked around the table. Once he reached Roy, he waited next to his seat expectantly like a puppy waiting for leftovers. Roy smirked, triumphantly shoving his chair back so Luke could take a seat on his lap. The boy did just that, except he now sat with one leg on either side of the man’s waist. Roy didn’t wait for Luke to take the first step, he immediately tangled his fingers in his hair and attacked him with hungry, sloppy kisses. Luke took his eagerness as an encouragement, without hesitating his hand travelled down to the man’s crotch. Roy gasped, his moans drowning out the conversation the guys next to Ashton were trying to have. The latter didn’t know if he wanted to keep looking or run and hide. By now, Luke was moving Roy’s hands to his bum, something the man appeared to appreciate thoroughly.

 

Once both of them were breathless, they were forced to break apart. Roy didn’t seem to want to let the young boy go just yet though, because he pushed Luke’s head against his chest clumsily, keeping the panting boy in place with an iron grip.

 

“Come on, give the kid his treat.” Everybody cheered, obviously agreeing and Mr. Fedler sighed.

 

“Alright, get over here, Lukey.” Most of the men tried to touch him while he passed by, letting their hands travel down his back, ruffle his hair or squeeze his bum. It didn’t seem to bother Luke though, he made his way over to who Ashton assumed was his boyfriend almost yearningly.

 

Mr. Fedler dipped his thumb in the chocolate sauce on his plate, smearing it on Luke’s lips with his plump fingers before sucking it off and making Luke lick the sauce off of his fingers. The boy immediately did what was expected of him, too hungry for his treat to care about Ashton’s presence or mundane things like dignity.

 

Once he was satisfied, Mr. Fedler retrieved the bag from his pocket, reluctantly pushing it into Luke’s hands. The boy kissed him and mumbled a thanks before disappearing through the door again. Ashton found himself less excited this time.

 

He bit his tongue, trying to swallow the bile that crawled up his sore throat. Though the thought of his pure blue eyed boy needing white powder to cope was one he would rather push to the back of his mind, he kept wondering what Luke was doing at that very moment. He visualised Luke sniffing it after forming a line like a pro time and time again. Once in the bathroom, once in the kitchen and a whole lot of times in the bedroom. Every single time, he pictured the bedroom differently. Did Mr. Fedler allow Luke to have posters? Did he get to have a CD collection as big as Calum’s? Did he sleep in a room by himself? Or did they sleep in a bed together, in a boring modern room that signified the loss of Luke’s own will?

 

Before he could dwell on the questions any longer, Luke returned. He took a seat on Mr. Fedler’s lap again, his fingers drumming idly on the man’s arm.

 

“Excuse me, may I use your bathroom?”

 

Ashton’s voice startled Luke and their eyes met for the second time that night. Ashton sucked in a breath when he noticed how big his pupils were, making his baby blue eyes nearly invisible.

 

“Of course, Ashton. It’s the first door down the hall, you can’t miss it.” Mr. Fedler smiled warmly at him with his arms still curled around Luke’s waist.

 

The boy nodded curtly before standing up. Roy tried to reach out for him when he passed, but Mr. Fedler sent him a glare before he could touch him.

 

Ashton thought he was going to throw up right then and there.

 

Back in the hallway, he didn’t allow himself any time to admire the beautiful interior. He rushed to the bathroom and clung to the sink so desperately his knuckles looked like they were made out of paper. He gagged, but despite his lack of will to keep the vomit back, nothing came out. Apparently the thought of Luke on coke was only enough to make him want to throw his guts up, it wasn’t enough to actually make him throw his guts up.

 

He let himself slide down the cold, tiled wall while biting down hard on his trembling fingers before getting them out of his mouth only to tangle them in his hair. With painful tugs at the curly strands, he tried to get control over himself again. He heaved, covering his gags with one hand and keeping the other in his hair.

 

Without a second thought, he tore off a piece of toilet paper.

 

He was going to write Luke a note. It wasn’t too late yet. He could still help him.

 

After realising that he didn’t have a pen, he snuck out of the bathroom, way quieter this time. The hallway looked kind of beautiful if you didn’t feel like you were about to disintegrate. He spotted a marker laying on a table with some more business cards like the crumpled one in the pocket of his skinny jeans.

 

He grabbed one of those as well, realising that carton might be more useful than fucking toilet paper.

His handwriting was scribbly and scratchy due to his trembling fingers, but he knew Luke and Luke knew his handwriting. Ashton used to leave him notes when he left for work in the morning.

 

Once he had finished the note, he forced himself to sit back down on the cool floor. The cold stone felt refreshing against his boiling skin.

 

Ashton remembered coming home from work, exhausted, finding a shy boy sitting on his couch with sweater paws and a mug of tea, ready to cheer him up with chaste kisses.

 

He remembered coming home from work, frustrated, finding a cute boy sitting on his couch wearing his shirt and demanding cuddles.

 

He remembered coming home from work, on the verge of tears, finding a sad boy sitting on his couch wrapped in a blanket confused as to why he was getting yelled at.

 

He remembered coming home from work, in desperate need of a smile or a hug, finding nobody sitting on his couch with a frustrated Michael messing up the kitchen because he doesn’t have a _person_ to mess with and Calum whining because no one wanted to sing songs with him.

 

Luke had left ever so quietly, gently shutting the door. His soft footsteps resembled the words he said - I don’t want to be a bother, Ashton, I can’t just invade your life, you need your space, you need your time and you deserve all of that, I’m sorry Ash, I wish I could make this all work - and so did the tears he cried. He had never meant to push Luke away, he just-

 

“Ashton?”

 

Mr. Fedler’s voice sounded nice and warm through the wooden door, but he knew that his only choice was to get out of the bathroom. He slowly opened the door, peeking through the crack.

 

“There you are.” The man pushed the door open even further, using Ashton’s surprise to grab his arm and force him out of the bathroom. “Are you enjoying dinner?” he asked. “I’m sorry about my friends, they’re not as polite as I am.”

 

“I noticed,” Ashton smiled sweetly while trying his best to escape his grasp. Mr. Fedler was just about to stroke his cheek, when an arm snaked around his waist.

 

“Dominik?” Luke rested his head against the man’s shoulder, placing a soft kiss on his neck. “Mitchell wants me to take off my shirt.” He kept kissing him, his lips travelling down his chest regardless of the curly hairs that grew there. Ashton wanted to throw up all over again, but he bit his lip instead. Luke straightened his back and licked a small stripe behind his ear. “They know I don’t do anything without your permission.”

 

Despite his composed appearance, his hands were shaking and as soon as Mr. Fedler stroked his cheek, he flinched under his touch.

 

“Alright,” the man gave in, releasing his hold on Ashton. The latter reluctantly trailed behind the couple while they made their way back to the room.

 

“There he is,” Mitchell hummed contently, patting his knees as an invite for Luke to sit down. “Do us all a favour and tell your boy to undress.”

 

“Actually,” Ashton spoke up, “would you like to sit on my lap, Luke?”

It was a risk, yeah, but it was a calculated one. If some middle aged men liked seeing a young moaning boy, surely they’d appreciate two?

 

“I could work with that,” Mr. Fedler commented and so it had been decided. Luke hesitantly made his way over to him, nervously waiting while Ashton took a seat.

 

“How do you want me?” The question sent shivers down Ashton’s spine. He wondered how many times Luke had asked that question and what kind of answers he’d gotten.

 

“The way you sat with Roy.” Luke did what he asked without hesitating this time and Ashton looked over to Mr. Fedler for advice. “Luke, put your hands in his hair. Ashton,” he paused for a moment, “do whatever you want.”

 

Luke tensed up, but his shaky fingers found their way to Ashton’s dark blond hair. After subtly taking the note out of his pocket, Ashton shoved his hand down the front of Luke’s pants. The action made him feel just as rude and perverted as the men sitting next to him, but Luke was moaning loudly and exposing his neck like he did while was singing, which was exactly the distraction Ashton needed. Once he felt the younger boy’s nails digging into his skin, he immediately pulled his hand back. Luke didn’t break character, he just moved Ashton’s hands and let them slide down his pants on the other side. Ashton could feel their eyes on his fingers so he started squeezing Luke’s bum as gently as he could, yet fierce enough to make it visible through the fabric. “Please don’t give them any ideas.” Luke’s lips felt warm against his earlobe, his breath ghosting over his sensitive skin. “Come back to us.” Where Luke’s words had been a soft and sad whimper, Ashton’s were a bitten back moan. “I’ll get you out of here.” Luke shivered, his hands caressing Ashton’s chest.

 

“Quit teasing me, Lukey boy, and get over here,” Mitchell groaned, clearly getting impatient. From so close, Ashton could feel the way Luke tensed up, the cocaine made him twitchy and the fear and disgust made him cling to Ashton. “Off with that shirt.” Ashton obeyed silently, removing the piece of clothing as slowly as he could. Roy’s mouth watered when he ogled the way the fabric slid over Luke’s ivory skin. The teenager got up as soon as he was shirtless and silently made his way over to Mitchell, who was awaiting him with a sly smirk.

 

He didn’t waste any time with kisses, he just guided Luke’s hand towards his crotch while he licked up Luke’s bare chest.

 

“It’s getting late, it’s time for me to leave,” a man at the edge of the table spoke up. Ashton thought he was tired of seeing a young boy get felt up by middle aged men but he turned out to be wrong. The man walked to where Luke was sat and kissed him goodbye, before waving to the other guests and leaving. Perhaps it really was getting late.

 

“He’s right, I should leave too. My friends are waiting for me at home.”  

 

Luke looked a little scared and Mr. Fedler looked downright disappointed, but he nodded nevertheless.

 

“At least give my boy a kiss,” he demanded and the young boy almost jumped off of Roy’s lap. Without letting his hands touch Ashton (something Ashton appreciated thoroughly) he pulled him in for a kiss. Their lips seemed to be glued together because god knows they didn’t want to break apart. But Roy was tugging at Luke’s arm and before Ashton could properly register what happened, he was stood outside in the half-dark, the streetlights the only light to guide him. The cold, evening air filled his lungs and he took a couple of deep breaths. His thoughts were still stuck on Luke, a seventeen year old boy in a room filled with horny middle aged men and a business card tucked in his underwear. Without thinking, he dialled Michael.

 

“Mikey?”

 

“ _Ashton? Are you okay?_ ”

 

Only now did Ashton feel the wetness on his cheeks and the tears that flowed without a stop. A broken sob left his lips before he found the right words to reply with.

 

“I’m okay, I’m fine. But could you, could you pick me up?”

 

“ _Of course, I’ll be right there, Ash. Anything for you._ ”

 

Michael’s voice sounded calm and comforting through the tiny speaker.

 

“ _But you have to tell me. Did they do something to you? Are you hurt?_ ”

 

Though Ashton could hear the car engine in the background, he couldn’t bring himself to scold his friend for calling and driving because he wanted him as soon as possible and he needed to keep hearing his voice.

 

“I’m okay, no one hurt me.”

 

“ _Was it good for your career?_ ”

With everything that had happened, he had forgotten about his drumming and his intention to network.

 

“No.”

 

“ _Then why did you stay?_ ”

 

“The food was good.” Ashton took a deep breath, his voice threatening to crack. “And they, they had,” he paused again and clenched his eyes shut, making even more tears spill down his cheeks. “Luke.” All he could think about was cerulean eyes and baby blue and pure pure _pure_. “Michael, they had _Luke_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> eep there we go hope you liked that
> 
> please let me know if you did 
> 
> and what do you think?  
> is luke going to call ashton?


End file.
